


You Are So Fifteen Years Ago

by halfsweet



Series: Parallel AU [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bottom Patrick Stump, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Riding, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Top Brendon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:46:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: When they both wake up that morning to find Patrick looking way,wayyounger than he is, Brendon is not going to let this golden chance of turning his fantasy into a reality go.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can _not_ believe we still have no brentrick daddy kink yet. Blasphemy

Brendon still can’t believe his eyes when he woke up that morning with a young, _very young_ , Patrick beside him. He almost didn’t believe that it’s his boyfriend right there until said boyfriend shot him the bitchiest expression that has always been reserved for him and punched him on the shoulder.

If he has to be completely honest, it’s actually the lips that convinced him. But he’d never tell that to Patrick, though.

Neither of them really understand or even comprehend what happened. Instead of freaking out or going off the rails like he expects Patrick to, the older (younger?) man merely said he’s going to shower before putting on his smallest pair of boxers, smallest pair of sweatpants, and smallest sweater.

Which are all baggy on him.

“How old are you supposed to be anyway?”

“I don’t know.” Patrick frowns as he looks at his reflection in the mirror, tugging at his hair with his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “Eighteen, nineteen. Probably. Judging from this awful haircut.”

Wow. Patrick’s _that_ young. He didn’t get to meet this version of Patrick. In fact, he’s pretty sure that Patrick’s already 20 or 21 when they met the first time. This Patrick, fucking hell, _this_ Patrick is _younger_ than the Patrick he first met!

He bites his lip. _God_ , there are just so many... _many_ things running through his mind right now that he can’t grasp on just one.

Oh, wait! He can. There’s one… It just floats there in the center of his mind, staying there until he’s unable to keep his focus off of it. Wouldn’t it be hot if his boyfriend (his very young and _very legal_ boyfriend) would just…

Patrick looks at him from the reflection in the mirror, his face twisted into a frown of confusion. “B, what are you- _oh my god._ ” Patrick spins around and glares at him, jabbing his finger in his chest. “Brendon Boyd Urie, if you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I swear to God-”

He recalls Pete mentioning to him years ago that Patrick had a terrible temper when they first started, but. Really. _Fucking adorable._ “Babe-”

“ _Brendon!_ ” Patrick screeches, his face already becoming red in anger, but he isn’t afraid of his temperamental (and _legal!_ ) boyfriend. “I am _not_ having sex with you in this body! _And I sure as fucking hell am not calling you ‘Daddy’!_ ”

“You’re legal.” He points out blankly and crosses his arms, smirking. “C’mon, babe. This is _perfect._ You’re eighteen, and I’m…” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, but is met with a very unimpressive look from his ( _legal!_ ) boyfriend.

“Fucking old.” Patrick deadpans.

Okay, because he wants to get on Patrick’s good side, he’s just going to let that slide. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to stop trying to get into his pants though. “No,” he says patiently, “I’m fucking _you._ ”

Patrick narrows his eyes. “Brendon-”

“I’m serious.” He takes a step closer to Patrick, who immediately steps back. Arousal begins to pool deep in his stomach at the small glint of fear in Patrick’s eyes. _Like a prey falling into a trap._ “I am going to fuck you,” he says slowly, using his deep voice that he knows is a turn on for his boyfriend, “and you are going to call me…?”

He lifts his eyebrows in question, demanding the other to finish his sentence. Patrick visibly gulps before him, though his pupils are blown with lust. “I- I, uh. Um. B- Brendon?”

Wrapping one arm around Patrick’s waist, he ducks his head to nuzzle at the blond’s neck, purposefully rubbing his stubble on the skin there. It’s another one of Patrick’s weakness that he’s learned over the years, especially now that Patrick is trembling under him and breathing a little too fast.

“Brendon-”

He doesn’t bother to hide his smirk when Patrick lets out a surprised squeak. Lifting his hand from Patrick’s ass, he tells him, “Another wrong answer, and you’re getting another spanking.”

Patrick buries his face in his neck in an attempt to get away from the rough friction of the stubble, and his stifled whine turns Brendon on even more. He can feel Patrick’s hardening cock digging into his thigh, and he presses back, the other choking out a moan. “Bren-”

“F- fuck.” Patrick breathes out harshly, jumping when Brendon’s hand comes into contact with his ass again. The movement results in his baggy sweatpants to slide a little lower down his small frame, hanging so low on his hips that a small tug can make it drop all the way down to his ankle. Still rubbing his rough stubble against Patrick’s neck, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of the sweatpants, not pulling, just letting his fingers tease on the skin exposed.

 _“Bren-”_ Patrick mewls, his back arching, which earns him another spank. He squeals again, and his fingers clutch onto Brendon's shirt.

Brendon hums. “What's that, baby?”

For the next few seconds, Brendon would have laughed out loud if it didn’t make Patrick snap out of his lusty haze and threaten to cut off sex for a week. In the midst of Patrick squirming in his arms, he must have accidentally stepped on the hems of the sweatpants, causing the garment to smoothly glide down his legs and to the floor, pulling the boxers together along with it.

He hides his smile in Patrick’s shoulder, blowing cool air teasingly at the back of his neck as he runs his hand lightly over the curve. Patrick is shaking, garbled sounds making their way out of his pink lips, and Brendon catches a sound that seems to rhyme with his name somewhere in between.

He starts to walk backwards slowly, dragging Patrick by the waist and not stopping his attacks of kisses at the neck once. When the back of his knees hits the bed, they both fall down clumsily, though neither seems to care, and he quickly flips over so he's on top, looking down at his crimson boyfriend.

He's seen Patrick in this position and… _colour_ before, but damn it, he's _never_ seen a _fucking eighteen year old Patrick_ in this position and colour before. “Yeah, baby. Tell Daddy what you want.”

Patrick opens his eyes into a half-hearted glare, his red lips parted, panting heavily. “Brendon, I told you I’m not gonna-”

He cuts his own sentence off with a loud moan, eyes slipping shut when the sharp sound of skin being slapped bounces off the walls. Brendon caresses the soft flesh of Patrick's ass; knowing that there will be his palm imprint on the skin later. “Did I say you can call me that?”

“Bren-”

He spanks him again, a little harder this time, loving the firm contact under his hand. “What's that, baby boy?”

“N- Nothing.” Patrick's eyes are wide now, surprised and aroused at the same time. From the look, he can tell that Patrick is getting into it.

He bites his lip, testing the waters. “Are you going to apologize?”

“I'm sorry.” Patrick murmurs to the space between them, his eyes downcast as his face becomes bright pink. “I won’t do it again, Daddy.”

He stares down at the smaller man (boy?) with his mouth agape. _Fucking hot as fuck._

He crashes his lips on Patrick’s, hot and dirty with a lot of tongue, and Patrick whimpers helplessly underneath him, body writhing and arching seeking friction between them as his hands reach out to grasp at his back to pull him close.

“Just imagine what your eighteen year old self would feel.” He breathes hotly near Patrick's ear, teeth tugging gently at the earlobe before letting go, kissing his way along the smooth jaw. Patrick's stuttered breathing, if possible, gets even more stuttered.

“Being under a _much_ older man,” he grazes his teeth at the skin just under his jaw, “Getting into bed with him.”

He pulls back to shove the sweater up, exposing his milky skin and soft tummy with baby fat clinging still. Then, he yanks the garment off of him and places a hand on his bare chest, pressing him down into the mattress and looking into the blond’s pleading and beady eyes. “Getting naked under him.”

Still pinning the other down, he leans over to nibble at the skin just below his collarbone, applying even more weight on Patrick’s body as he does so. He slides his free hand down to between Patrick’s legs, fingers circling around the rim, teasing him. Patrick closes his eyes and moans, his legs falling open, wider, on their own. “Getting fingered by him.”

He continues to leave little love bites all over Patrick’s chest, and he brings his hand back up to wrap around Patrick with a firm grip, stroking him and pressing his thumb at the head.  Angling his head up, he kisses at the sensitive skin behind his ear, growling, “Getting _fucked_ by him.”

He thrusts his hips against Patrick when he says his last sentence, the blond moaning wantonly at that, then blinks at the sudden feeling of warmth over his fingers. He lifts his hand curiously before a wide grin splits his face. “Oh my fucking god. I can’t believe you just came.”

“S- Shut up.” Patrick punches him weakly on the chest as he hides his blushing face in the crook of his neck. “My body is eighteen. What do you expect?”

“I know, but-” He begins to snort in laughter and leans back just to see his boyfriend’s ridiculously red face, blindly reaching for the discarded sweater to wipe his hand with it. “We haven’t even started. Holy shit.”

“Oh my god, _shut up.”_ Patrick kicks him, Brendon wincing when his heel collides roughly against his side, and he covers his maroon face with his hands,  his voice muffled. “We will _never_ talk about this, or so help me God-”

Okay, if his 33 year old boyfriend is adorable, then his 18 year old counterpart is a _gazillion_ fucking times more adorable. Even when he’s making threats. _Especially_ when he’s making threats.

Corner of his eyes crinkling with mirth, he tugs Patrick’s hands down and drops a kiss on his nose. “We’ll never talk about this. Got it.”

While waiting for Patrick to catch his breath and calm down, he resumes his previous position; leaning over Patrick with one arm holding himself up, the other resting on Patrick’s hip, thumb stroking mindlessly over the soft baby fat. He buries his face in the junction between the shoulder and the neck, pressing his mouth at the sensitive areas he knows all too well while rubbing his stubble on the skin at the same time.

Patrick squirms under him, trying to get away and pulling him close at the same time, as the mood returns filling the atmosphere with lust. “D- Daddy…”

The word seems to pull a trigger within him, because as soon as Patrick moans it out, his throat produces a deep growl. He moves back to sit on the bed, back resting against the headboard, and pulls Patrick to sit on his lap. His movements have taken a rough turn; hands seizing at the pale skin, squeezing and gripping until they leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints, and teeth nipping everywhere he can reach, leaving behind his bite marks. There are bound to be a lot of prominent bruises by tomorrow, and he reminds himself to kiss each one of them before they both go to bed. A kiss to make everything all better.

Patrick winds his arms around Brendon’s neck, pressing himself close as he grinds down in his lap, swiveling and rocking his hips. Brendon can feel his hardened cock straining painfully in his boxers and jeans, and he places both his hands on Patrick’s hips to lift him up, a little surprised to find that Patrick’s lighter, and quickly gets himself out of his boxers and jeans, leaving only his shirt on.

Patrick sits back down on his thighs, giving out a high-pitched moan when their cocks brush together. Brendon bites back a groan, the sound and the sensation sending a spark down in his stomach, and he spanks him yet again, Patrick jolting forward at the sudden force and moaning.

“Did I say you can sit?”

Whining, the blond reluctantly sits up on his knees, hands grabbing at Brendon’s shoulders for balance. Brendon places his hand on the dip of Patrick’s back, the other reaching for the bottle of lube in the nightstand drawer. While he’s slicking his fingers up, Patrick rubs himself against his clothed torso, desperation emanating from him with each action; his sharp mewls, his tight grips on his shoulders, his frantic up-and-down motions.

He swings his hand on his ass again, the sharp sound ringing pleasantly in his ears. “Daddy!” Patrick cries out, his eyes squeezed shut as he throws his head back.

“Did I say you can move either?” Brendon leans forward and attaches his mouth at the exposed throat, gently sucking as he pushes Patrick close to him, all the while positioning his slicked fingers at the entrance. “Do you want it, baby boy?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Patrick moans and moves his hips down, but moves back up when he’s spanked again. “Daddy, please!”

“Then don’t move.” He pulls back to narrow his eyes at him. His cock twitches at the way Patrick hangs his head down, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“It’s fine.” Brendon noses at the smooth curve connecting Patrick’s neck and shoulder, and he slowly slides in two fingers inside. He knows Patrick doesn’t need a lot of stretching-they just fucked a couple of nights ago anyway-so he doesn’t expect for Patrick to be tense and hissing, without a doubt, in pain.

“Babe?” He asks worriedly, stilling his fingers. “You okay?”

“Y- Yeah.” Patrick answers in a harsh pant after a moment, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m fine.”

Brendon’s still not convinced, though. He cups Patrick’s face gently, watching as Patrick’s eyelids slowly flutter open, the wrinkles on his forehead disappearing. “I’m fine, B,” Patrick says softly as he places his hand over Brendon’s, relaxing into his touch. “Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” He asks again for confirmation. The last thing he wants is to hurt Patrick unknowingly, even when Patrick himself says that he’s not hurting.

“I’m sure of it.” Patrick leans in and kisses him, both hands framing each side of Brendon’s face. Even when they’re having a scene or role-playing (or just anything kinky in general), Brendon loves and treasures tender moments like this. Even when they suddenly break out of character in the middle of it, instead of the mood dissipating, it just takes a rest stop before it picks up where it left off.

“Just tell me if you’re hurt, alright?” He whispers against Patrick’s lips as he wriggles his fingers, keeping an eye on Patrick in case he’s in pain again. Patrick nods, biting his lip again, and his eyelids slide shut.

Neither of them need to say a single word for the other to know that they’re putting their little play on hold until Patrick doesn’t feel any pain and Brendon is certain that he’s not hurting him.

Patrick lets out a small whimper every now and then, and when he does, Brendon ceases his movement instantly, his eyes glancing up at Patrick in worry. He keeps placing soft kisses on his neck and chest to soothe him, and when Patrick finally relaxes, no longer wincing in pain and moaning in pleasure instead, he goes a little roughly.

“Daddy!” Patrick gasps, his body curving towards Brendon when he rubs at his prostate. “Daddy, faster-"

Brendon keeps his steady pace as he slides in another finger, his free hand holding onto Patrick's hip to keep him in place and still. His fingers sink into the soft skin when Patrick moans again, loud that shows he's fully into it. Brendon knows that's a good sign for both of them.

Patrick whines again as he moves his hips down. “Faster, Daddy!”

“If you want it fast so much, why don't _you_ move?”

He stills the motion of his fingers, letting them buried deep inside Patrick and angling them away from his prostate, smirking at the protesting whine Patrick makes.

Hands placed firmly on Brendon's shoulders, Patrick heaves himself up and grinds down on the fingers, moving his hips until he gets the fingers at just the right spot. His movements are quick, desperate, needy moans escaping each time his prostate gets hit.

“You're such a slut, aren't you?” Brendon looks up at Patrick, who has his eyes closed and his sinful lips parted to make way for the beautiful sounds flowing from his throat, as he purposely shifts his fingers away from his prostate when Patrick moves down.

“Daddy!” Patrick cries out in a complaint and swivels his hips again to get Brendon's fingers back in place. “Don't move!”

Brendon continues, “Can't keep your pretty mouth shut for one second, even when you have something up your hole, can you?”

Patrick seems far too lost in his own pleasure to even respond to him as he lifts himself back up again, his thighs already shaking from exertion, and slams his hips down, his moans almost drowning out Brendon's voice.

“Maybe you'd be quiet if you have something in your mouth, huh? You'd like that, wouldn't you? Want Daddy to gag you next time? See if you'll be quiet.”

“Yes, yes, yes-” Patrick answers, panting heavily with his pink tongue out. “I'll be- _ah_ \- I'll be quiet.”

Brendon chuckles deeply at the sight of his boyfriend riding him. His blush has travelled down, colouring his pale chest into a filthy shade of red. “I doubt you'd be quiet. Sluts like you are always loud.”

Patrick nods his head fast, as fast as he’s riding his fingers. “O- Only for you, Daddy.”

“That's right.” Brendon hums, leaning to kiss at Patrick's neck, which is absolutely littered with red bruises. He's glad that Patrick doesn't have to go anywhere until the scheduled tour Fall Out Boy has next month. If not, then there's no way they'll both be able to explain the love bites. Or the fact that the vocalist has somehow magically become fifteen years younger. "My baby boy is a pretty little slut. Only for me.”

“D- Daddy.” Patrick whimpers, his fingers curled around Brendon's shoulders as he fully sits on his lap, his body tense. “I'm gonna come again.”

He wraps his hand around Patrick, giving it a few strokes before squeezing the base. Patrick breathes out in relief as he drops his head on his shoulder, chest heaving with short breaths, and Brendon pulls his fingers out.

“Daddy…” Patrick moans again, though his voice has started cracking. Brendon shushes him by kissing the corner of his mouth while his hand reaches for the bottle of lube laying beside him, then slicks himself up. “You ready, baby?”

Nodding, Patrick brings himself up again-Brendon can see how much effort it takes him to do so when his whole body is trembling-and sinks down on him in one smooth motion.

Brendon's hands immediately flies out to grab at Patrick's hips, holding him steady as Patrick lets out a loud cry, fingers digging and clinging onto Brendon's shoulder blades.

 _Fuck._ He rests his forehead on Patrick’s shoulder, Patrick resting on his, and grits his teeth. Even though they just fucked recently, Patrick shouldn’t already be this tight. It’s like he’s squeezing the life out of him; metaphorically and literally (in a way). He can’t move at all. Neither of them can. He can’t thrust in or pull out. And Patrick can’t even move an inch without crying out in pain. He’s confused about what just happened when it finally hits him like a ton of bricks.

Patrick is _physically eighteen years old._

Not only does his body shrink, but so does  _everything_. That's why Patrick seemed to be in pain when he started off with two fingers.

“Don't move.” Patrick warns, his voice shaky and tight. Just like the clawing grip he has on Brendon’s back. “Don't move yet.”

“I won't.” He promises, hands moved to rub at his sides comfortingly as he plants gentle and soft kisses on his neck and shoulder. “I won't. You can move whenever you're ready.”

Their laboured breathing sounds too loud in his ears, while Patrick's occasional whimpers sound too soft. He can feel Patrick's breath brushing against his shoulder at an erratic rhythm, and there's no doubt that his own breathing is just as erratic.

Patrick attempts to move a minute later, and Brendon is quick to soothe him when Patrick whimpers again, his body shaking and tensing so hard Brendon has to bite down the hiss of pain at the feeling of Patrick clenching around him. “Babe.”

“I'm fine.” Patrick squeaks out, and Brendon almost doesn't believe him until Patrick finally relaxes, the muscles around him loosened just enough that he can move. Still, he only waits for Patrick to start first, because he isn't sure that Patrick's completely fine.

With a shuddering breath, Patrick moves up slowly halfway, just to get the feeling accustomed, before he moves back down, then repeats the action for a few times. Brendon lets him do so at his own pace as he sits back and watches the blond the entire time; he usually lets Patrick do all the work when he’s riding anyway. There’s something hot about the way his thighs tremble and jiggle with every movement, the way his breathing matches, sometimes doubles, the speed he’s going, and the way he wants him to flip their positions and let him _really_ fuck him into the mattress because he’s tired, but also wants to keep going because he’s just _so desperate_.

He could come just from the sight of it, really.

When moans of pleasure begin making their way out of Patrick's mouth, he pulls Patrick's hands behind and holds them there in one hand, then grabs the sweater and ties his hands together. Patrick opens his eyes and looks at him, eyebrows furrowing in a pout as his movements slow down. “Daddy-”

“Daddy!” Patrick cries out just as Brendon's hand lands on his ass in a smack.

“Did I tell you to slow down?”

“N- no, Daddy.”

“Good boy.” Brendon praises him when Patrick picks up his previous speed, and he can't help the smirk on his face when Patrick looks at him with his pupils blown. He knows Patrick has a praise kink. Give him a little bit of praise, and Patrick is wrapped around his fingers at that instant.

Even with his hands tied behind, Patrick doesn't slow his pace once. He keeps going, eager for his second release even though he's already whimpering and crying from oversensitivity. Brendon grips him by the hips, deciding that Patrick has had enough control and that he’ll take over from then on.

He considerably slows down the speed Patrick is going; lifting him before bringing him back down at a steady rate. He can tell that Patrick is quickly growing frustrated and annoyed by it from the whiny noises he makes.

Patrick’s so small now that it’s easy, _too_ easy, for him to manhandle him. Control his every movement. Control his pace.

“You're just so desperate for Daddy, aren't you?”

Patrick moans again, nodding his head fast and desperately trying to move his hips against him. “Please-"

“Please what?”

Instead of answering, Patrick tries to fight against Brendon’s hold on him to get him to go faster. It’s difficult for him, considering that both his hands are tied behind his back.  Brendon spanks him again, Patrick letting out a cry at that. “Use your words, baby boy. That's what your mouth is for. Unless you'd rather do something else with it.”

“D- Daddy, please-” Patrick begs, his voice choked, “-move faster. Please-”

He removes one hand from his hips, taking pity on him when he looks like he’s just about a few seconds away from crying. Although, as soon as he let go of his hand, Patrick right away slides up and down his cock in frantic motions, not caring if his moans can be heard throughout the house or if he hits the spot inside him or not.

Brendon latches his mouth at the base of Patrick’s throat, nipping and making his way down to the perky nipple that he knows is beyond sensitive at this point. He flicks his tongue at the hardened nipple, and he’s rewarded with a piercing yelp. But it’s not enough for him, no.

He wants to hear Patrick _scream_.

One hand still placed at Patrick’s hip, he sneakily slides his other hand down between their bodies. He knows Patrick isn’t too far from coming. In fact, he’s surprised that Patrick manages to last this long when a while ago he came just from his dirty talk.

The smell of sex has long filled the room, heavy and thick, together along with the obscene noises of their skins slapping together and Patrick’s lewd moans. Patrick’s cock is trapped rubbing between their bodies, only lubricated by sweat and the pre-cum leaking.

_“Daddy!”_

Brendon smirks in triumph when Patrick’s shrill scream penetrates through the air, and he continues to press against his prostate, moving his fingers alongside his cock as he mouths at his nipple. Patrick starts to lose his rhythm, his moans growing higher and higher in pitch until-

He clenches his jaws together as Patrick squeezes around him, his come shooting and streaking their chests and stomachs. Knowing that Patrick is about to feel oversensitive soon, he flips them over so Patrick’s on his back, and he wastes no time thrusting his hips, pounding into him, slamming, ramming, the pressure in his lower stomach rapidly building and coiling until it finally snaps.

A guttural groan makes its way out of his mouth when he comes, filling Patrick up until he can feel his own come dripping out. He drops his head on Patrick’s shoulder, both of them panting hard to catch their breaths, and when he hears a small whimper from under him, he quickly apologizes to him before pulling out slowly.

He lies next to Patrick, lazily untying the sweater around the blond’s wrists, and uses it to wipe their bodies. Reaching for Patrick’s hand, he massages at where his wrist was bound as Patrick snuggles up to him, his head resting on his chest.

“That was nice.” Patrick sighs contentedly, still in his post-orgasmic high, and he releases his hand from Brendon’s to wrap around his torso instead.

“Are you kidding me? We are _so_ fucking doing that again!” Brendon wraps his arm around Patrick’s waist, kissing his wildly disheveled sex hair. “Come on, I bet you have a dream about something kinky, too.”

Patrick taps a finger on Brendon’s chin. “Okay, I admit, I did dream about that.”

“What? Calling me Daddy? Babe, if that's the case, I can make your dream come true all day every day for the rest of your life.” He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively at his boyfriend. He knows Patrick isn’t really into daddy kink, but hey, Patrick still calls him that sometimes, and when he does, _fuck_. It’s the fucking hottest thing ever. He just needs to find the right button to push.

“No, genius.” Patrick laughs lightly before it turns into a soft, happy but nostalgic sigh. “I used to have a thing, y’know. For older men. Like that.”

“Yeah?” He looks at Patrick in surprise. He definitely doesn't see that coming.  

Patrick hums affirmative. “Yeah. Like, I played in bands since I was, what? Sixteen? That’s how I came to know some people from the scene, and when I watched those guys on stage…” he chuckles and shakes his head, Brendon wrinkling his nose when his hair tickles him, before continuing, “You don't even want to know what went through my head.”

“Well, I'm glad I can make your fantasy come true. Even if it's, like, sixteen, seventeen years too late.” Brendon squeezes him tight in a hug, earning another laugh. “Let's take a nap for now, then we can make _another_ fantasy come true.”

 _“And_ find out what's happening to me.”

“Yeah, sure. That too.”

If he can go back in time to when Patrick’s still seventeen and, like, perform on stage as Panic or whatever, really, just as long as he’s performing, would _then-Patrick_ fantasize him? A twenty-nine year old _rockstar_ with chart-topping singles and a band that has toured worldwide and is even nominated for Grammy. He’d beat the shit out of the scene kids there, even Pete and his Arma band wouldn’t stand a fucking chance against him.

He opens his eyes. “Babe? Earlier when you said you watched _those guys_ on stage, did that include Pete? Since he's in the same scene and all.”

When Patrick doesn’t reply, he calls him again. “Babe?”

He's met with a silence as an answer.

“Patrick?”

Silence.

“Patrick.”

“Sleep tight, Brendon. I love you.” Patrick nuzzles his face on Brendon’s bare chest, his smile partially hidden by his folded arm, but it doesn't go unnoticed by Brendon, whose expression turns flabbergasted.

_“Babe!”_

**Author's Note:**

> 4k of smut hahaha I'm definitely in the deepest part of this hell i can't even see the light anymore dont send help
> 
> I have this headcanon where Brendon and Patrick got together during ioh and everything's all sweet and fluffy and pure vanilla and they came out to their friends during folie and vices/sp is the starting of their kinky adventures and Pete's the only one who knows and supplies Brendon with stuffs. _Thus this unnamed series is born._ Brendon's birthday fic and the Halloween fic are a part of the series. I don't know what to name it yet, so feel free to give your suggestions!
> 
> *slowly crosses daddy kink out of brentrick checklist*


End file.
